


Somebody Else

by surroundedxhounded



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: 21p, M/M, joshler - Freeform, somebody else - Freeform, the 1975, twenty one pilots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surroundedxhounded/pseuds/surroundedxhounded
Summary: Based off the Somebody Else music video.Imported from my wattpad, surroundedxhounded





	Somebody Else

Restless.

Antsy.

The night air was cold, several chills running down Tyler's spine. His hands were planted in his jacket pockets like a flower in soil; the numbness distracting him from his eager mind. He had slept for seven minutes after many failed attempts to slip under. His brain felt hot, burning embers in his skull trying anything, anything, to let _it_ out which had been hindered under a mask. The next feasible thing to do was run outside and catch a bus that lead him to god-knows-where.

His nose was dry, snot dropping down a face so numb it calmed the storm inside his head. He couldn't bring himself to wipe it away. Maybe it was soothing to him to look so disastrous; so distraught, his tears might even freeze. He licked his bloody, chapped lips as he stood at the bus stop on the other side of the city. Tyler walked, feet so frozen to the bone they might break. Maybe they'll break. He would feel something besides numb, dizzy, panicked.

The street was dead. Maybe there was an apocalypse. Maybe it was just 2 in the morning. He didn't particularly know this part of town; the deafening darkness and howling wind didn't stop him from going back home though. He wondered what was open, if anyone was out there. He came across a parking garage at the end of a road. Maybe he would know where to go from there.

He stepped inside the elevator, almost collapsing as the wind ceased and he could thaw out for a moment. He pushed the '4' button, careful not to push too hard or his finger might shatter into a million little pieces. His breath was still detectable. He exhaled, the glass inside responding to his fogginess. It was dim, but light enough for him to see the fog next to him. He drew with his index finger a 'T', signifying his deep night adventure. Maybe the next person who wanders in here in the middle of the night would too fog up the glass and see his signature. The elevator dinged and he braced himself for the cold. The wind was much more distinct up here. He could see a few streets over in every which way; he walked to the south side of the lot, leaning his weight on the barrier between him and being splattered all over the ground below. He thought about it for a moment. The sky above, or so below, he would feel free, no, dead. He would be dead. He didn't cringe at the thought. He wasn't scared.

Tyler took a step back to refrain himself from a suicidal headspace.

He looked into the distance, the city's lights polluting the sky but he didn't care. It was beautiful, no, ethereal in the moment to him. He noticed a pink-orange hue to the left of him a few blocks over, followed by a flashing green and orange neon sign next door. Those had to be open. For the first time tonight, he had a plan.

Down the elevator he went, gazing at himself in the glass. His eyes were bloodshot accompanied by a pair of expensive bags. His face looked rotten, so pale he might as well be deceased. He hated his features. Even more so in below freezing temperatures.

He walked along the sidewalk, the neon signs guiding his way. He focused on his breathing, on not tripping, because every tinge of pain is amplified. To feel something would be nice. Not right now.

Lively chatter became to him as he turned the corner to the street that was the most illuminated street in the world at this hour. Groups of drunkards stumbled out of a bar, night owls such as himself, albeit much happier. He didn't drink much, but his legs did the steering and his brain not much thinking. Soon enough he was sat on a bar stool, an exhausted bartender came to him.

"A pint. Don't care"

His voice squeaked, he was raspy, he needed a cigarette. The bartender turned around hastily and shoved the beer in front of him. Tyler's eyes fixated on the bubbles, on the foam. Everything ceases to exist at some point. He drew in the condensation on the glass, circles and stars, before wiping it away on his jeans and lifting the drink to his mouth, the alcohol burning the cracks in his lips. He didn't care. The liquid soothed his throat, not thinking much of the taste, but how it felt to have something in his system finally. The pint was finished, which he paid for, before turning around like a child on his chair. He was forced to notice a group of men, loud and distasteful, sitting on a couple of sofas which were situated next to a karaoke stand.

Just like most of the night, he felt he was caught in a daydream, power steering his way to the microphone. He put a quarter in the machine, and it started to play.

The men on the sofa stopped their chattering, focused on the ragged individual that found himself nowhere in particular. Tyler's face went warm as he felt 6 eyes on him, but he kept singing. His head twitched in a breath unintentionally, so he buried his hand in his jacket pocket and fiddled with a piece of lint. The men started heckling, harassing, booing him to get off the small stage. He wasn't a bad singer. He was just tired. Ingested an entire pint in three minutes, his mind was beginning to blur. Curse of being a lightweight and never drinking. He only listened to the instrumental playing behind him, telling himself to breathe between each line. The song ended, and he carefully yet shakily set the microphone back into it's spot.

He ducked his head under as he walked out, hoping the men would ignore him despite all of the hateful shouting they threw at him. Beside the bar door, he spotted an ash tray. His lighter felt heavy in his pocket, to which he fumbled to get out; unknowingly he reached down to pick up a cigarette butt. It wasn't full, but it was just enough to warm the insides. The fire came and went, and the cigarette between his teeth burned his lungs. It was much nicer to form a fire inside the organs than on the skin, he told himself. Next to the bar was an alley. Down the alley was a neon sign that said "girls, girls, girls". He'd never been to a strip joint, but now was a good time as ever. One foot in front of the other he continued down, until he heard several patters of footsteps trailing behind him. Snickering and low chatter filled the air. He stopped in his tracks.

"Hey, fag!" There was venom in his voice. _Fuck_ , Tyler mouthed to himself before turning around. He was met with a shove backward, and as fast as the cigarette burned out and fell, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his jaw. He landed on the ground, hard, shattering any source of dignity he held. His palm met his nose, only to come back into frame covered in a warm, dark substance. The men chuckled as they bounced off back the way they came. Tyler sat on the ground, assessing his night out and wondered how in the hell he got here. He didn't do anything to those men. _They were drunk. I'm sure they're decent when they're sober._ He stood up, defeated in himself. Maybe he should go home.

Nonetheless, he set off to the strip club, haphazardly wiping the blood from his hand on his shirt. A bloody mess, a tangled brain, paying a cover charge. He was surely miserable now. The thoughts screaming through his ears earlier, he just wanted to feel something. He had felt something. The punch brought him back to reality. He made his way inside the club. The music was deafening, how anyone could think in this setting, he wasn't sure. Maybe that was the point. He found himself in another bar seat, thinking maybe he should have something stronger. The bartender gave him a napkin which he rightfully wiped his nose with.

He ordered a vodka soda, before downing it and ordering another. The alcohol hit his stomach in a way that was sickening. Another. He sat staring at the glass, the soda slow dancing with the vodka. It was strong, but not strong enough. He wanted to feel more. A broad-shouldered man stood next to him. He towered over the distraught boy. Dark, curly hair appeared from underneath a dark beanie. He was dressed in black, much like Tyler, but with a twinkle in his eye. He winked, and Tyler looked away back to his drink. He threw it back, a hiss emitting from his lips as he set the glass down. The man next to him chuckled below his breath.

"Long night?" The man asked. Tyler just nodded, focusing his gaze on his hands resting on the bar.

"Two shots of..." The man hesitated, assessing Tyler's situation. "Tequila." He told the bartender.

Tyler took it willingly, downing it faster than the man who bought it for him.

"Can we get another please?" Tyler's vision was starting to blur. He wasn't in control anymore.

"I'm Josh." The man reached his hand out, but Tyler ignored it. Josh retracted his arm back to himself. Another shot, down the hatch.

Tyler exhaled, alcohol breaching his breath, not wanting to think anymore.

"Tyler." He gave a slight nod, averting his gaze to the man who had sat next to him.

"Okay, Tyler." Josh gave a half-smile, before focusing his eyes onto the blooded nose. It was half-dried by now, clinging to Tyler's skin that hurt when he wrinkled his face in any way.

Josh reached his hand up, gripped Tyler's chin and lifted his head backwards, assessing the damage.

"You're bleeding." He ran his thumb under his nostrils, wiping a spot of blood away. Tyler's stomach jumped.

Tyler let out a small laugh before swatting his hand away.

"No shit. I got punched in the face." Josh's eyes widened before huffing out a single breath.

"Good on you."

They sat in silence for a second, before Tyler turned around and scanned the room. There were less people than when he came in, the girls dancing on the poles weren't as eager, and the music had turned down.

Josh set out some cash on the bar before grabbing Tyler's hand and pulling him behind him. Tyler was stumbling, mumbling to himself about wanting another drink. Josh was tipsy, but not drunk enough to not know where he was going.

Josh pulled him into a room where only the privileged get lap dances. He sat Tyler down on the seat, grabbed him by the neck only slightly choking him. Tyler liked it.

"Is this okay?"

Tyler just smiled, playing it cool behind hazy eyelids. What once was pain was replaced by soft lips, caressing Tyler's bruised jaw. Josh loosened his grip, but Tyler reached back up to tighten it. Make him feel something. More.

Josh's actions were persuaded by a not-drunk-enough boy, who leaned up far enough and close enough to smell the alcohol on both sets of lips. The gap between them closed. Close enough to feel each other's warmth. Josh found himself sat on Tyler's lap where Tyler was gripping his hips. The kiss deepened, Josh's hands tugging on Tyler's hair.

Josh got up suddenly, taking Tyler by the hand and leading him outside.

"My car's round the corner."

Tyler didn't hear him. He was engulfed in a heat that was once a cigarette but now a man that wrenched a hidden desire, a lust.

The two men followed suit, stumbling and keeping their hands on each other. Tyler was encompassed by a new found confidence.

The alley they found themselves in was dark and reeked of piss and garbage, but the cold morning air clung onto their skin. Tyler pushed Josh against a wall, grinding himself into the man beneath him. A moan escaped Josh's mouth and that made Tyler smile.

He liked it.

Their mouth's met once again, this time feeding the needs they didn't know they had.

Josh pushed him off, grabbed his hand and led him around the corner. A black car was parked on an empty street, the only light cascading from a lone streetlight. Josh fumbled with his keys whilst Tyler paw at his back, itching to get his coat off and see what lay underneath; Tyler felt needy. Josh turned the key to open the door, unlocking the rest of the car. He shut the driver's side only to open up the backseat, where Tyler stopped him before entering. Tyler reached in front of Josh, gliding a once bloody hand over the front of his jeans. Josh hissed under his breath. He backed up only to turn around and throw Tyler in the car. Josh retreated into the warmth of their body heat, shutting the door behind them.

The weight of Josh on Tyler felt suffocating. Tyler didn't care.

It didn't take long for the windows to fog up, responding to their lust and soft mutterings.

It wasn't such a bad idea for Tyler to come out tonight after all.


End file.
